


Lost and Found

by Walker_August



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: Actress Reader, Blind Date, Dating, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, Insecurity, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August
Summary: Henry Cavill x reader based on the prompt:"Would you like to write a fic about the reader being an actress and doing a film with Simon Pegg, with him trying to set her up with Henry, because he thinks they’d make a great couple? Cause I’d like to read it… please consider it, it’d so much fun.v"





	1. Chapter 1

“No. No way, Pegg. Why do you keep trying to set me up?!” Your exasperated voice rings out through the suddenly quiet restaurant where you, Simon and several of your latest films cast and crew are celebrating the last day of filming. Great, you don’t need everyone else to hear this too.

“Because every single time I spend time with you you complain constantly about your terrible love life!” Simon counters quickly, frustration in his voice. This is your second project together and yes, you might have been huffing about all the bad dates that you’ve wasted your time on over the last couple of years – but still how can he say he knows the perfect guy for you? At this point you’re convinced there is no perfect guy for you. “Listen, I know you have your defences up because of the last guy…” ugh, you don’t need to be reminded about that “but please give this a chance, you’re literally perfect for each other. And, honestly, the more well known you get the more difficult this is going to become. You might as well give someone a chance now, and you know I only want what’s good for you” his voice is kind, caring. He is looking out for you. He’s been sort of like an older brother to you since you first worked together and if you trust the opinion of anyone in this industry, it is him.

“And you’re really not going to give me his name before I meet him?” he shakes his head. “So it’s someone I’ve heard of, right?” Your still on the defence although close to being convinced.

“I don’t want you googling him, and I’ve told him the same about you”

“Wait! You’ve already set this up with him?!” Simon!” You hang your head, you know he means well but that’s a step too far.

“Have I ever led you astray? Don’t I always look out for you?” he says dramatically, smirking now.

“Oh god. Fine! You win. When and where?” You roll your eyes when he gestures excitedly, getting out his phone and sending a text to the mystery guy. By the end of the meal you’re set up to meet this new suitor next week in London.

“If this goes badly, Pegg. I swear to God I’ll find someone else to share my award winning performances with!” you threaten, although with a laugh. Inside, you’re kind of excited to meet this guy who supposedly could be your match made in heaven.

The next week you find all your excitement has died down, replaced with disdain. Dating is hard, even when you’re not considered ‘famous’ which you barely are at this point, starring in indie films and a couple decently received TV shows. Yes you have a BAFTA to your name by now, but you wouldn’t call yourself a household name and like most actors you know, Hollywood is still a future you don’t dare to dream of. But dating now was as much of a nightmare as it had been before you’d even gotten cast in your first film; either things moved too quickly or they didn’t move at all, there was never an in-between. Plus there was the distant but still painful memory of your ex. A co-star who had swept you off your feet and you’d spent months thinking he was the one – until you found out about his other girlfriends.

You sigh, pushing the hurt away again, as you finish getting ready. You wear a classic little black dress, one with a mid length flared skirt, nude heels and silver jewellery. Your make-up is natural for the most part, although you’ve gone for huge eyelashes plus perhaps a little overdose of highlighter. What can you say, you like to glow. You don’t look half bad, you think as you check yourself out once more in the mirror before leaving your flat. Part of you still can’t believe you agreed to this. A blind date? What were you thinking. But it was something different and you’d learnt to embrace new experiences in this job.

When the cab drops you off at the restaurant, 34 Mayfair – one of the most exclusive in London, you feel some telltale signs of nervousness that you had been able to ignore before now. You feel your heart beat in your chest, your palms have a slight sheen of sweat. You’re tempted to turn around and leave. Despite your apathetic exterior you realise some part of your heart still wants this to go well. Something about the way Simon had described this guy to you makes you hopeful despite everything else, he had seemed so sure and so sincere and you have such trust in that.

The table is booked under Simon’s name to make it easier for you both, and when the maître d′ leads you to the table your date is already there waiting. You stop in your tracks on the way, just for a second, gulping and smoothing down your dress before regaining your composure and moving forward again. You silently curse Simon for not preparing you for this; of course you recognise him even though you’ve only seen a couple of his movies – but it’s not that that stuns you, it’s him. Just sitting there, looking unsure what to do with himself, looking somehow incredibly put together but also out of place in this stupidly posh, over expensive restaurant. He’s handsome beyond all description, in a navy blue suit and a white shirt underneath, his hair slicked back, a healthy glow to his skin.

He stands when you make it to the table, and when you introduce yourself he takes your hand in his and kisses it lightly then introduces himself “Hi, I’m Henry. It’s so nice to finally meet you” in his deep voice and gorgeous accent. You feel your cheeks flush even as you sit down opposite him, nerves striking up big time now. There’s an awkward pause for a moment as the waiter brings menus and pours the water, and then Henry lets out a quick breath and says “Simon told me…actually not much about you at all” he laughs and it’s the laugh that calms your nerves. Immediately he seems so warm and open “Not even your name, although of course I recognise you…I’m actually a bit of a fan” he goes shy for a second, flush painting his cheeks just slightly this time.

“I’m flattered, thanks. Simon didn’t give me any details either – makes it more fun, right? Although I do remember him telling me about your wicked sense of humour when you guys were on set together”

Henry takes one look at the grin on your face as you remember and cringes dramatically “Oh God I hope he only told you the good stuff, anything else was all his influence I swear!” he jokes, although you’ve worked with Simon too and know that Henry isn’t entirely joking – he does bring out the inappropriate jokester in others.

Your conversation is interrupted when the waiter comes to take your order, you let Henry choose the wine and try not to make a face at the one he does decide on – you can be a little picky, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.

“So Henry what made you chose this place?” you ask, genuinely curious. You’ve never been here before, but heard plenty about it and how difficult it can be to get a table on a Saturday night.

“I…uhm…” he hesitates, clearly feeling a bit awkward about it “Well to be honest I wanted to impress you” he admits, looking away from you for a moment. “It’s a bit much isn’t it?”

“No, it’s lovely and I’ve always wondered what it’s like. Just not my usual haunt” you assure him, truth be told you hardly go out to anywhere other than your local on quiet afternoons away from work.

“I rarely go out in London any more, to be honest. I tend to stay at home with my dog when I’m here. How about after this, if you like, we go to somewhere of your choice?” The admission only warms you to him more, and the suggestion is just what you wanted to hear because already you don’t want the date to end any time soon.

The restaurant may be a little bourgeois but the food is admittedly almost as gorgeous as the company, and he’s charming you more and more every minute. It’s only briefly awkward, when he makes a joke that doesn’t quite land with you, and he’s not smooth in the slightest but he’s just so unexpectedly affable and kind-hearted.

“I have to say, you look stunning” he tells you a little later whilst you finish off the last of the wine together “you certainly know how to make an impression and…wow you really disliked that wine didn’t you?” he interrupts himself after you make a disgusted face when you quickly drain the rest of your glass.

“It was at least nicer than I expected it to be! Sorry…” you giggle “Thank you for the compliment, you look great too. But you know as well as I that in our industry dressing to impress becomes second nature and, well, a bit boring? I’m already at a point where I’ve been to enough galas and ceremonies to find a man in a tracksuit or jeans and a t shirt more alluring than in a three piece suit.” you explain rapidly “You really do look amazing though” you cringe inwardly, hoping desperately you didn’t offend.

“I’m making a mental note to wear a tracksuit on our next date” he looks distracted for a moment as he says it, then indicates for the waiter to bring the bill.

“Next date? Oh, super smooth. Maybe try that line again at the end of the night” you tease.

He doesn’t let you even contribute to the bill, and you know he’s just trying to be chivalrous so you try not to be offended by the action. You’re still not earning Hollywood money, but you can look after yourself well enough with what you have. He doesn’t know that though, and Henry does seems the type to believe in following proper date etiquette to a tee in order to impress someone and perhaps you should appreciate that. It’s something to think about if you do end up seeing each other again.

“So, where to next?” Henry asks as you leave the restaurant together. He looks slightly on edge stepping out of the restaurant and you realise he’s expecting paparazzi but thankfully no one seems to have been tipped off yet about the two of you being out together.

“You know, I’ve never had to worry about being ambushed. That must be so rough” you observe but he just shrugs, it’s a part of his life and he’s accepted that. You look at him surreptitiously as he watches the car pull up to the curb. If Simon had given you his name, would you have gone out with this man? Even over in London you aren’t immune to hearing Hollywood rumours and he has a certain reputation to him. And yes he is handsome, more so in real life than you thought he was from photo shoots, but he also has to put up with a lot in his life that seems less than fun: aggressive press and paparazzi, swarms of fans who may occasionally not want what’s best for him, a lot of expectation to live up to all the time. You realise maybe he put so much in to this date because he needs a person, someone to keep him grounded and keep life feeling somewhat stable. Is that what he’s looking for?

“I’d like to walk, if that’s OK? It’s not far. We can disguise you, if it helps?” you ask and nonchalantly take his hand in yours. His eyes widen for a second and he hesitates, although he doesn’t let go of your hand instead squeezing it gently.

“That sounds nice. I should be fine but thank you for being thoughtful about it. I hope it doesn’t put you off too much” he’s quiet, becoming that shy, gentle man again “Is it OK if I take this off?” he indicates to the suit jacket, unbuttoning it. You nod and let go of his hand, watching as he removes the jacket and rolls up the sleeves of the white shirt. You have to stop yourself from suggestively biting your lower lip, but even his forearms are magnificent. That’s a new level of attraction for you.

You walk him though what is mostly darkly lit back streets “I hope you’re not planning to mug me” he jokes when he doesn’t recognise the route.

“I think you’ll need a few more drinks in you before I can overpower you enough to get that watch off of you” you give back with a sing song laugh. He doesn’t respond, just a quite ‘Hmm’ but then he takes your hand again. His skin is warm and soft and your hand fits far too perfectly in his. As you walk and talk you realise that there aren’t any nerves any more, none whatsoever. This feels…good. Great, actually. Oh, now when you talk to Pegg again your going to have to admit he was completely right.

You stop in front of a tiny pub on the corner of Greese Street, The Bricklayers Arms. Your favourite pub in the city. It’s rarely busy and has two floors, one even quieter than the other. They only serve a few locally brewed beers and a couple wine options but it feels so homely and peaceful compared to every other pub or bar in London. You’re sure Henry will love it for that too. Shortly after you’ve ordered your drinks (for which you pay) and gone to sit upstairs you’re greeted by the publican’s dog; a very friendly medium sized Collie with a penchant for licking newcomers. Henry absolutely lights up, suddenly even more animated than he’s already been. That is a man who loves dogs. You encourage him to tell you all about his Akita, Kal, loving the enthusiasm and expressiveness he gives back.

“This has gone so much better than I could’ve ever hope for” you tell him, honestly brewing after several drinks just as last orders are called. “I’ve not been on a date I actually enjoyed in a long time, I’d started to give up. But this, this was-it’s been good” you smile wide and he reciprocates with a dazzling beam that makes your heart race.

“I was exactly the same” he nods, placing his hand over yours on the table “Bad date after bad date, a never ending circle. Except I’ve never been able to give up. I want so badly to believe that eventually the search will be over, you know?” the twinkle in his eye tells you he’s getting to his limit too, the one where tipsy becomes drunk, but the words still hit you hard. He knows what he wants. Is this what you’ve been looking for too? Why don’t you know.

He’s looking at you like you’ve awoken something new in him, he seems calmer than at the start of the evening and more able to express himself. The drink helps, but there’s more to it than that. You can’t help leaning closer to him, closing your eyes, letting your lips meet. It’s a chaste kiss, shy and undemanding but it sparks a whole blaze under your surface that you have to fight to conceal. There’s a very strong temptation, between both of you, not to part. To let this turn in to a whole make out session but Henry is the one to pull away first, clearly a man with a lot of self control.

He clears his throat then gulps down the last of his drink, small smile playing on his lips the whole time. You’re sort of frozen, still leant towards him, trying to think of words any words to say to him now. After a couple beats he breaks the silence with a confident smirk “So, about that second date?”

“Yeah?” a slight crack in your voice, expectation suddenly becoming apparent to you. Please don’t let him say he’s changed him mind, please please please. He places his glass back on the table and turns to face you, his blue eyes soft and full of feeling.

“How’s tomorrow?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked me for another part to this little story, so I decided to give it ago. I have no idea if I will continue with this, or if it’s even good enough to deserve another part so I guess let me know your thoughts and if you want to read more. I really appreciate any and all feedback.

The ‘tomorrow’ Henry had suggested for your second date hadn’t worked out with either of your schedules so it was almost a week and a half since the blind date before you got to see him again. After that first meeting you’d been left feeling giddy, excited, for the first time in what feels like forever but still wary of letting yourself get too invested too soon. It was only a first date after all, and nobody presents their full and true self so early on – you of all people should know that by now.

Still, the morning before you met for the second time the butterflies in your stomach had been unruly, not so much because of nerves but because you genuinely were looking forward to seeing him again. It had been a semi-formal get together in a bar, too noisy to have proper conversation but still a nice way to spend an evening in good company. Apart from not being able to talk properly, things had gone well overall and a third date was quickly arranged for the next time he was in the city, which turned out to be another five days. You’d already been thrilled to get to see him again, and then he’d showed up looking the way he did.

“Are you planning to talk to me at all? Or should I just be content with your staring?” Henry’s smooth voice breaks you out of a prolonged stupor. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It’s certainly flattering”. You feel your cheeks burn with a blush, thinking you’d been inconspicuous about checking him out. He had really taken to heart your comment about how attractive men were to you out of formal wear, and had shown up to your date in track pants and a plain white t-shirt. The way the t-shirt fit him, the loose but not too baggy fit of the track pants, it was a lot to take in. You’d had to stop yourself from professing your undying love for him then and there, certain that he is a casual wear angel come to take you to the highest heavens.

“God, sorry. I thought I was getting away with it” you laugh and duck your head in a show of embarrassment, concerned that he might feel objectified but he just laughs it off with a warm smile “I did warn you that casual clothes are my weakness”.

“Oh I know” he smirks, hand brushing against yours as you walk side by side “Perhaps that’s why I chose this outfit”

“And here I was thinking you were being practical for our walk”

“Can’t it be both?”

Oh it’s unfair, how cool and collected he seems to be. You’d been texting back and forth for days and some of his attempts at flirting made you think he wasn’t particularly smooth but in person he’s so easy to talk to and joke with. He could be very dangerous for you, you can’t help but let that thought linger in the back of your mind even as you laugh and converse like old friends. Don’t make it easy for him to hurt you. Don’t let yourself go through that again.

“Do you hate cardio? I really hate cardio” You ask, shaking away your dark thoughts. You’d decided on a walk in Greenwich Park, up to the lookout where you could see the whole city shine. It’s a midweek early afternoon and apart from a few people and several squirrels you had the place practically to yourselves, but the hill is steep and you’re trying not to loose your breath as you climb it. 

“Depends on how the cardio is getting done” a sly smile and the suggestive tone not lost on you “but for the most part it is a necessary evil” he sighs, although he’s barely breaking a sweat and you’re pretty sure he could carry you the rest of the way with no trouble if you asked. You’re very tempted to ask.

“I’m choosing to ignore that innuendo” you scold, but then laugh when he gives you an innocent look as if he has no idea what you’re talking about “It’ll be worth it for the view, at least”,

“It already is” he replies, quiet enough that if he wasn’t turned towards you you might have missed it. You feel your heart jump in your chest with the way he says it, the smile he offers you after when he stops a couple steps ahead of you and holds out his hand. The funny thing is, you don’t think he knows the affect he’s having on you, doesn’t realise that the playful, flirty mood he’s set is turning you to jelly. When you take his hand and look up at him through your lashes, there’s a hint of something hopeful in his blue eyes that makes you almost swoon, starting to believe he’s not going to play you.

A few more steps, your hand in his. His skin is soft, warm, grip on your hand undemanding. When you reach the top and look out at the view your breath catches, like it always does. The smile spreads across your face as you take in your beautiful city, your home. The way the river curves, water glittering in the sun. The tall modern buildings juxtaposed with the smaller, older ones from long ago. You’re never more certain that this is where you belong than when you see the city like this. “Perfect. Isn’t is just incredible” you whisper faintly, turning to him and seeing the glint in his eyes of some distant memory or emotion, the view stirring something in him too.

He still holds on to your hand, fingers laced together and his thumb softly stroking along your wrist “Almost” he says to you in a low voice, turning to face you too. You want to ask him if he misses it, when he’s not here. How he could possibly chose anywhere else over London, work be damned. But the way he’s looking at you, wanting something but perhaps too afraid to ask, it quiets you for a moment.

He leans in to you and instinctively you close your eyes, trying desperately to quash the thoughts starting to stir in your mind again. You feel his lips, smooth and hot as they brush against yours. His hand coming to rest on the back of your neck, not pushing you towards him, just a gentle offering of support. You breath him in for a moment as he rests his forehead against yours and then he’s kissing you. Less tame this time than it was in the pub before, but still timid, calm. You feel that now too familiar rousing of butterflies again, but with it come those same unprompted convictions and memories. Scolding voice in your mind telling you to be careful. That’s what makes you pull away.

“Henry…” he moves his hands away from you, gives you a curious look but doesn’t demand to know what’s wrong, letting you take your time. “I’m sorry, I can’t…it’s not fair to you. I need to take things slowly, please understand. I was hurt a lot in my last relationship and things like this, feeling like this, it’s a little scary for me now”

He nods, no sign of upset on his face, his body language still open and accepting. He sits down on the bench behind you both and you follow, still apologising. Sure he won’t want you now that you won’t give him what he wants to offer you.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologise, ok? I like you” he pauses to push back a brazen curl that dances in the wind “I like you a lot. And because of that I’d never want to rush anything or make you feel obliged. We can just be friends, if you’d rather” you shake your head at this, you’re too far gone with him at this point “No? Well, I’m glad of that.” a small, thankful laugh escaping him “Just know I’ll give you all the time you need, and you never have to be sorry for wanting that”

You immediately open your arms and pull him to you in a hug. His sentiments are so sincere and thoughtful, again shooing away some of your doubts and insecurities at least for a moment. The demands of men, dating and being expected to be ready to reach a certain point within a set number of dates is exhausting and uncomfortable but you’ve often felt so obliged to it because that’s just how people date. Henry, even though he’s very much a modern gentlemen, dispels all those common ideas about what dating should be just with those few words he offers you.

Perhaps your luck is finally changing.


	3. Chaper 3

How you’d managed to squeeze three more dates with Henry in to your tight schedule over just two weeks, you’ll never know. But he had such limited time to be in London and despite your fears you’d felt the need to make the most of it, because every time felt better than the last. He was due to fly back out to Hungary for filming soon, and you were surprised to find that you could already feel a sadness spreading over not being able to see him regularly.

You’d surprised yourself when you’d invited him round to your place for your latest date, and offered to cook him dinner. It seems like a big step, having him in your home, and part of you still worries you aren’t ready for big steps. But it’s him, and he’s safe and kind and you enjoy being around him so much. He had happily accepted the invitation, excited to be seeing where you live, but only with the stipulation that you both cook. He suggested it would be more fun that way, and you absolutely believed him after the delight he’d given you so far.

You’re still in the stages of nerves, and you feel them as you get ready – opting for comfy jeans and a t-shirt, after all you’d assured him it wouldn’t be a formal event and jokingly begged him to wear the full tracksuit this time. Just like before, your nerves just melt away when you answer the door to him – your heart jumping at the sight of him, bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers in hand which he presents to you with a sweet, lingering kiss when you invite him in. It’s funny, how he affects you – because he makes you swoon, absolutely, but he has such a cool confidence to him which seems to spread to you when you’re with him. To begin with at least.

You start the evening with a quick tour of the house, at Henry’s request. Even though you bashfully tell him there’s not really much to see, you’re pretty proud of your beautiful living space and actually enjoy the chance to show it off to someone other than visiting family members. You feel like a ridiculous teenage girl with a crush when you let him in to your bedroom, feeling your face heat up when you imagine the sight of him waking up in that bed. How it’d feel to have him next to you like that.

Part of you wants to be bold; lead him to your bedroom, to your bed. But you’re far too in your head, still afraid of what might be if this turns in to something more and you can’t bring yourself to give in to your desires. Your mind wants you to suffer, an image of your ex kissing that other woman sneaking in to your head every time there’s a moment of intimacy between the two of you. You still haven’t admitted this to Henry, who has done exactly as he said he would and kept things slow – he leaves tomorrow and you haven’t even discussed how things might move forward with you two.

Once the tour is over, you lead him through the living room and to the kitchen but he stops when something catches his eye, asking “And what are those?”. You stop too and cringe inwardly. You still feel weird bout having an awards shelf; of course your family had proudly insisted you display your BAFTA TV and two Olivier awards but it made you feel like you were being too boastful. You had no idea how Henry might react to that, being a fellow actor and with few accolades to his name. You know this because, much to your own horror, you googled him after the first date.

“Uhm, those are my awards” you awkwardly tell him.

“Wow. Look at those” he mutters under his breath as he examines them slowly, seeming very interested. You can’t help but wonder if he actually is, or if he’s putting his own acting abilities to good use.

“My mum made me put them up on display. It must make me seem like such a show off” you grimace, fidgeting with your hands as he picks up the Leading Actress BAFTA.

“Oh come on, you must be proud of them? I know you absolutely deserved this one” he indicates to the statuette in his hand before placing it back down on the shelf.

“Thanks” you feel heat spreading on your cheeks at his words.

“You know what I did after I got home from our first date?”

You playfully raise your eyebrows at him, hoping he gets the insinuation.

“Not that, don’t look at me like that”

You laugh and shake your head, unsure what he’s actually about to admit to.

“I watched your show, several episodes, although I did fall asleep part way through the third – but that’s your fault for getting me drunk! When I woke up, I watched the rest. You were remarkable, and I really mean that”

You feel your face burning again at the compliment, so taken aback by his sweetness. And then you realise something and have to cover your face in embarrassment, stammering as you say “Oh god! That means you saw my nude scene?!”. Mortified, you can’t even look at him.

“No, no! I promise, I covered my eyes the whole time – it would’ve felt very indecent to watch that” he assures quickly, embarrassed from his tone, as you raise your head in relief.

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. I’d rather- ah, nevermind” he stops himself before he says anything else and you’re left wondering what exactly he’d rather.

“Well now I feel bad, I should’ve watched something of yours. Want to know what I did?” you fill in the silence and then regret it immediately because you didn’t want to admit this to him.

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrows at you, and you light-heartedly swat at him as you laugh.

“I googled you – and watched possibly every interview you’ve ever given. I did that a little later” you wink at him, giggling as his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. You’re taken slightly aback yourself, flirting so boldly with him like that.

“I’m going to presume you’re joking”

“I guess you’ll never know” you pat him on the shoulder jokingly and start to move towards the kitchen again as he follows.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his curls, then continues “I’m afraid any information is probably full of inaccuracies and I cringe to think what comes up in my search results. It’s difficult to keep track of what’s being said on the internet – I’m sure you understand” you can tell he’s kind of uncomfortable at the thought of it, and now you feel even worse for bringing it up – let alone doing it.

“I’m sorry, I’ve really never thought about it too much but it must be awkward for you. I stay as far away as I can” you take the food to be prepared out of the fridge as you speak, handing some to Henry so he can start chopping the vegetables. You notice for a moment how very normal this feels, being domestic with him. It’s a strange feeling with someone you still feel like you hardly know.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m flattered that you were interested enough to be that curious. And I’m not ashamed of myself or what can be found out about me online. It’s wise to stay away though, it can certainly drive you crazy if you get too involved” he smiles a small smile and then thoughtfully adds “But you know if there’s anything you ever want to know about me, you can just ask”

“I will” you promise quietly, moving around him to turn on the oven and brushing your hand across the small of his back as you do. He catches your hand in his as you move to his side, making you turn to face him. You look at each other for a moment, just stood feeling an unnerving mixture of calm and terrified, before his brings your hand up and brushes his lips against it softly. It’s kind of an awkward gesture, but at the same time so endearing and tender that you feel your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

“I’m really glad you invited me over” he tells you, letting go of your hand and turning back to the food he’s chopping like nothing happened.

“Me too” you grin, looking down and having to compose yourself all over again, “We’d better get this dinner ready, I’m not sure how much longer I can wait”

—–

The two of you have an undoubtedly excellent time making dinner together, and the evening goes surprisingly smoothly all things considered. The food might be a little burnt, that’s your fault for forgetting to set a timer although Henry insists it’s his for distracting you with videos of Kal, who you’ve yet to meet.

It’s obvious all evening that he wants to make a move, but he doesn’t and you have to wonder why that is. Is it so clear that you’re still afraid? Or is he just trying to find the right time? Perhaps you should initiate it, you think, but instead you eat, drink, clear away and tidy then kitchen before finally sitting down together to finish off the wine. You sit down first, and he moves in close to you when he comes to join you. So close that your legs touch. You realise then that he was actually just waiting for ‘the moment’, and this is it.

When he does kiss you, leaning down slightly so your lips can touch lightly at first, he draws you close with an arm around you. It’s warm and comfortable, a gentle kiss that slowly turns to something more passionate, tongue slipping between your lips as he envelops you in his arms. The light touch of his fingers on the nape of your neck is comforting but at the same time disconcerting. Making out on your couch is the furthest the two of you have gotten, in the few weeks you’ve been dating, but even as you will it to continue you can feel the nerves balling up inside of you, your hands starting to tremble. This is exactly what you were frightened of.

“Henry…I…” you break the kiss when it becomes more heated, your head filling with thoughts that don’t belong in this moment. His blue eyes search yours, watching as you blink away forming tears. “I’m sorry” you whisper, ashamed, looking away from him, hating yourself.

“It’s ok, it’s absolutely ok” he assures you, lightly brushing the hair from your face making you look up at him again. He smiles kindly at you and asks “Is it something you want to talk about? Will that help?”

You nod and gulp, unsure where to start. He places his hand over yours on your knee and gives it a squeeze, telling you he’s here, he’s listening. He cares. He’s so intuitive to your needs somehow. Calming you. How does he do that?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I like you. So much. And I want to be kissing you. I want to be with you, I really, really need you to know that.” you pause and sigh, struggling to say it “My last real relationship was…well I had my heart broken. And what happened, it damaged me. Really fucked me up actually” at this you turn your hand and link your fingers with his so that he knows this isn’t you trying to run away. “Ever since then I’ve been dating unsuccessfully, like I told you before, because I can’t make myself get close to anyone. I get scared, so I always run away. It’s easier.” you let all your thoughts and feelings running through your mind out, watching his face carefully to make sure he doesn’t think you’re making your excuses to ditch him. “But I don’t want to run away from this, from you” you add, making him give you a small smile.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, and that you feel that way. You know that I’m happy to take things as slowly as you want, I have no problem with that at all” he tells you, quiet “You know I’m not just trying to…get in to your pants, right?” he adds, cringing at the choice of words.

“I do, yeah. But I do also want you in my pants, eventually, just so you know” you laugh a little at this and he joins in for a moment “It’s not just about taking things slowly though, it’s a lot about trust. Every time we get close I can’t help but think about that feeling of betrayal and pain that I never thought I’d feel with him. It’s like my heart goes in to lockdown, to avoid any more hurt. If that makes sense?”

He nods, so warm and open. You wonder if he can hear your heart thumping away in your chest, because to you it’s deafening. He’s breathing calmly, watching you intently as you talk.

“In spite of it all, I do want a relationship. But I don’t know how I would cope if I had to deal with those feelings ever again. That’s the- That’s why I’m so terrified.”

“I know I can’t talk your worries away. But I promise you won’t have to go through that again, not with me. I swear, I would never” he looks truly horrified at the thought, the suggestion that he could hurt anyone like that. You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans in to it slightly, eyes locking with yours. “How can I show you that I mean it? Because the thing is, I think you’re incredibly special and I don’t want to lose this if I can help it”

You smile at him, reassuring, of course you don’t think that he could hurt you like that, but you thought that before too and were proven painfully wrong.

“Could you tell me what you’re looking for? What do you want? It’ll help”

“I…uh…” he thinks for a moment, giving time to form an eloquent response “I told you before that I wasn’t giving up on love, and I meant it. I want everything, from the beginning. I want to be with someone who makes me feel excited about life, to wake up in the morning next to a person whose presence calms me but also makes me want to get up and live. I want that feeling of familiarity and routine, even though that seems impossible right now…” stopping to take a breath, he gives you a half smile and you see the sparkle in his eyes, excitement at thoughts of a future that may well be far away, but is thrilling nonetheless. “It’s so difficult to really articulate what exactly I want to feel, but I do know that I want it all. And I don’t care if it moves at a snails pace, or if it’s messy and confusing. If it’s unusual. I don’t mind, at all.”

You’re shaken, by his heartfelt response. So unexpectedly true, although you know you should absolutely expect that from Henry. He hasn’t let go of your hand yet either, still clinging to you, telling you it’s ok. You lift your head to look at him, but it feels almost like time has stopped, like you’re seeing the two of your from outside of yourself. He’s putting himself out there for you – exposing what’s in his soul to this woman he’s known for three weeks. He’s giving himself, in some ways, in this moment. And you’re just trying to stop your hands from shaking.

“That’s a lot, I know. Please don’t feel any pressure, I don’t want that. But I do want you to do me a favour, ok?” he adds, seeing the wide eyed, daunted look on your face.

You nod.

“I know it’s scary, but you have to face your fears. Don’t let someone like that ruin your future happiness. Because even if it’s not with me, there is happiness to be had. And if you let some twat from your past be the thing that stops you from finding it, you’re only going to hate yourself for it”

“You’re right, of course you’re right. I promise, I’m trying.” your voice is barely there “And that was beautiful, incredibly. Thank you, Henry” you lean in to him again – just resting yourself slightly against his side. He puts his arm around you again then but this time it’s to bring you comfort. “Have you ever thought of writing an advice column or something? I think you’d be great” you laugh and he joins in, quietly. There’s no other sounds, it’s dark out and everyone’s gone inside for the night. You don’t even notice the clock, close to midnight, when Henry kisses your cheek gently and moves slightly closer to you again. “I wish you didn’t have to go tomorrow, I feel like we’ve broken through the ice. We’re just getting started” you whisper to him, lost in the feeling of his arm around you – so cosy and at peace.

“You can come visit, if you’d like? If you have time. But only if you want to. I’m not averse to a romantic date over Skype either, that would be nice actually”

“It would be lovely. Maybe I will visit though, one day” you contemplate, not wanting to impose on him but being so far removed from him fills you with sadness.

“One day.” he nods then looks at his watch and sighs “I’d better go, it’s getting late”. You know at this point any normal person would offer for him to stay over, but you’re not quite there yet so instead you just mutter an ‘ok’ and move away from him so he can stand and get his things. Your heart is doing somersaults still, it has been since his little speech, but it slows to a gentle thrum when you walk him to your door and lean up to kiss him lightly. It really does feel right.

“Thank you for a lovely evening” he says softly, then kisses you again once more before stepping out of the door.

“Thank you” you murmur, so quiet you’re not sure he hears. Even so he turns back and gives you a blinding, heart melting smile before disappearing in to the dark. You close the door and it’s almost like your legs give out, you sink to the floor, sliding down the wall. But this isn’t like all those times before, when you cried in your party dress after another disappointing night. You’re smiling, afraid to let it out at first but it becomes more wide with every passing second. You feel like your heart could burst. You suddenly and unabashedly feel full of happiness. You suddenly feel really ready to let him in, and knowing he feels it too only makes you smile brighter.


End file.
